


The Blade-Fingered Man

by Apollo_Vega



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Horror, POV First Person, Paranormal, Psychological Horror, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 16:57:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18144920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apollo_Vega/pseuds/Apollo_Vega
Summary: He has come for me again. I need to understand him in order to defeat him, but I have to survive first.





	The Blade-Fingered Man

I was visited again today by the Blade-Fingered Man. 

I was laying face down on the bed, trying to control my breathing. The darkness begins to seep into my vision, bleeding in through the edges. Cold fear begins to gnaw at me, creeping at first and then evermore oppressive. That's how I know he's here. 

Summoning the courage to face him, I roll over, eyes still shut. The whispering, faint at first, grows louder. Hundreds of indistinct, hushed voices all around me. My mind is filled with visions of eyes, flashing snapshots growing increasingly more disturbing and graphic. 

I draw a shaky breath, and sit up slowly. He's by the door; he always is.

"Hello, Ben." I say, as calmly as I can manage. A metallic scraping is the answer. The whispers become more urgent. My eyes open to him. His right hand is outstretched, blades impossibly long, ending a few feet from my face. The reflection from his fingers shine wickedly in the dark. His outline pulses, a breathing dark aura shuddering around him. 

I straighten my back and feel the sweat roll down my spine. I want to vomit. 

"Why are you here, Ben?" 

He steps forward once, and runs the sharp tip of his finger across my cheek. I don't move or react, fear paralyzing me. There is shouting mixed into the whispers now, and the scuttling of insects. With every blink, I see death, murder, suicide. This is his power.

He lowers his faceless head closer and I hear his abyssal voice in my mind. He says the only thing he ever says to me.

SUCCUMB.

Visions flash of knives, flayed flesh. My own skin peeled away by my own hand. I am overcome by the desire to take my own life. The whispers are screams. I turn to my bedside table and grab a knife. No matter how many times I throw it away, it's always back when he returns.

I turn back to face him. His fingertips rest on my chest, pushing slightly. Not enough to cut, but to threaten. I raise the knife and place it over my left forearm. 

My eyes roll back into my head. No clear thoughts now.

Blood.  
Blood.   
Blood.   
Blood.   
Blood.

The knife presses against my skin. A laugh in the distance.

Something in me hesitates. Stop.

Stop.  
Stop.  
Stop.  
Stop.  
Stop.

"No!" I shouted. I threw the knife across the room. "Leave! You can't take me!"

He hissed, digging his fingers in slightly. The pain didn't matter. I have to live. I leaned forward, into his blades. I raised my head, and lowered my voice.

"Not today."

Suddenly, the cacophany ceased. The room was empty, the pressure on my chest vanished. The only motion was the door, swinging shut, slowly.

The knife was gone, and so was he. I wiped the tears from my eyes and stood. I don't know why he comes to me, or why he so wishes for my death. Someday I'll understand. 

But not today.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a mental disorder that causes hallucinations. This is one of the reoccurring ones that I experience.


End file.
